


i know it isn’t pretty how i cant handle everything (but you never give up on me)

by juniperProse



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Boys In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Kissing, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, i am so sorry steven., vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperProse/pseuds/juniperProse
Summary: Steven loves his boyfriend, but...He is fucking terrified of opening up, of asking for help when he’s upset.It’s not Andrew’s fault, of course. It could never be his fault. It was just Steven’s anxiety. And yet, it felt like so much more thanjustanxiety- it felt like an overwhelming fear.—Or: Steven is upset, and Andrew loves Steven so much.!! huge trigger warning for explicit mentions of self harm !!





	i know it isn’t pretty how i cant handle everything (but you never give up on me)

**Author's Note:**

> this is a vent fic that got out of hand, and now it’s literally the longest thing i’ve ever written, so i couldn’t _not_ post it. i might even be kind of proud of this fic?
> 
> this is... a very, very personal fic. is it weird to project yourself onto real ass people who aren’t even dating? oh, definitely, yeah, at least a little weird. did i do it anyways? yep!
> 
> songs to listen to, maybe not during but definitely after reading this fic:  
> -tough guy by cyberbully mom club  
> -never give up on me by misterwives (this song is where the title is from)  
> -nights with you by M.O (i referenced some of the lyrics in one certain sentence of this fic!)
> 
> !!!! AGAIN i cannot stress this enough: **TRIGGER WARNING FOR (MENTIONS OF) SELF HARM** !!!! it’s not a passing mention of it, either, it’s the Entire Point of this fic. you’ve been warned!

Steven loves his boyfriend, but…

He is fucking terrified of opening up, of asking for help when he’s upset.

It’s not Andrew’s fault, of course. It could never be his fault. It was just Steven’s anxiety. And yet, it felt like so much more than _just_ anxiety- it felt like an overwhelming fear.

What if he’s just overreacting whenever he gets upset, what if he’s just being too sensitive, or what if he _does_ eventually open up and Andrew just _doesn’t care?_

What if he does open up, and then Andrew thinks he’s too much of a burden, and breaks up with him?

God. That’s his worst fear.

He doesn’t want to lose this man, not ever; he doesn’t want to scare him off.

Should he…

Should Steven tell him? About his _issues?_

He would say his _past_ issues, but they’re— they’re not as far in the past as he’d like to think.

There’s a reason he only wears long sleeves or jackets, you know. And it’s not just because he loves jackets probably more than is healthy for a normal person.

Who would think that upbeat, lovable, sunshiney Steven Lim would hate himself, or worse, would hurt himself? No one, that’s who.

Steven… doesn’t like confrontation. He’s too much of an anxiety ridden mess for confrontation- hell, had Andrew not said anything to him, they would’ve never gotten together in the first place. It was _that_ bad.

So, he should do the next best thing- show and not tell.

Steven swallows hard, and texts Andrew, asking him if they can have a date night that Friday. Asking if he can sleep over at Andrew’s.

—

Steven is stuck in his own head again, not paying too much attention to the movie they were watching. He’s wearing one of his softest shirts (long-sleeved, it’s long-sleeved, of _course_ it is) and his head is leant against Andrew’s shoulder, Andrew’s arm around him, and he _almost_ feels safe.

Almost. So close.

What if- what if Andrew got the wrong idea about him asking to stay overnight, and thought he wanted to have _sex_ or something? Not that he was against the idea, but not tonight, not anytime soon.

Steven’s stomach is all twisted up with fear, his core burning with anxiety.

What if Andrew sees- and he- he—

Jesus. Steven’s in too deep, lost in his own thoughts.

“Hey, baby, you good?” Andrew asks from beside him. Steven blinks a few times and sees that the credits are rolling. Huh, that went by fast.

“I’m okay,” Steven lies. He’s easy to read- both a blessing and a curse- and Andrew obviously sees right through his words.

“Anything I can do to help you?” Andrew asks, instead of prying into what the cause of the problem was.

God, Steven is so fucking grateful he didn’t ask _what_ was wrong. He might’ve just died right then and there because of his inability to talk about his own issues. Then again, it also might have helped if he’d asked- okay, whatever, it’s fine.

Andrew looks so fucking earnest, and Steven can’t bare to make eye contact with that- like if he did make eye contact, Andrew would be able to see all of Steven’s fucked up thoughts. He looks at a spot past Andrew’s shoulder instead, at the wall. Oh, boy, what an interesting wall.

“Stevie?”

Steven realizes he forgot to answer Andrew’s question- probably just raising _more_ concerns in his boyfriend’s mind. Damn it.

“Yeah, uh, can we just call it an early night?” Steven says quietly.

“Of course, baby,” Andrew says, too fucking genuine for Steven’s heart to handle.

Andrew leans in and kisses Steven on the forehead, from where his head is rested on his shoulder. Steven smiles softly, surely blushing.

His heart and stomach were still in knots, though.

—

He and Andrew make their way to Andrew’s bedroom, after brushing their teeth (because, as Steven has learned, morning breath becomes even worse if you don’t brush your teeth the night before, as much as he wanted to crawl under the covers right away and never get back up).

If Steven’s hand shook whilst brushing his teeth, Andrew was polite enough not to say anything.

They walk back into his bedroom together, Steven pulling out sleep clothes from his drawstring bag. Okay, this is it.

His back is turned to Andrew, and Andrew’s back to his. The semi-privacy is very appreciated.

Steven started with his pants, pulling off his jeans and slipping on some soft gym shorts. Easy enough- he had nothing to hide there.

If he takes his damn sweet time folding his jeans and placing them back into his bag, then, well- well, it was because he’s nervous.

Yeah, nervous. More like fucking terrified.

He grabs his short-sleeved sleep shirt out of his bag, and slips his own off. This was it, everything would could crashing down after he puts on a goddamn piece of clothing. He quickly puts on the other shirt before he can second guess himself.

His mind is swimming. He crosses his arms and hugs his sides and tries not to think too much about his wrists and what Andrew would think of them and of _him_ and—

And then he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Steven?” Andrew says. “You’re looking a little lost. The bed’s right here,” he jokes, or tries to.

Steven would smile and laugh had his heart not been in his throat at that moment. He uncrosses his arms and grabs Andrew by the hand and sits down next to him on the bed, not making eye contact, instead just… looking down at his own arms.

Stripes of scars significantly darker than his skin tone run horizontal across the inside of his forearms. Some are faded over time, some crooked, some shorter than others. It’s not a crazy amount of them, not a large amount by any means, but it’s enough to be fucking alarmed- any amount of scars like this should warrant alarm, but _still._

But still. They’re there. They’ll always be there- and Steven kind of wants them there. They speak more about his problems than he could ever bring himself to say aloud unprompted.

Andrew lets out a small gasp from beside him, more of a sharp intake of breath than anything else. “Steven,” he breathes, “what’s on your arms?”

And Steven honestly didn’t think he would get this far, didn’t plan this far ahead in his oh-so-expert plan to tell Andrew about… all this.

“I…” Steven starts. He _can’t_ look at Andrew, instead still staring down at his arms, head hung. He can feel his boyfriend’s gaze searing into him. “I used to… that’s not true, I still, I, uh, I- I…” He feels like he’s fucking choking.

Steven’s vision is entirely blurred by unshed tears. He tries to blink them away, instead causing them to fall onto his lap, small splashes onto his hands, his arms. He lets out a sob that he’d been holding in.

“I- I- didn’t know how to tell- you-“ Steven chokes out between ugly sobs. _And I wanted to tell you, because you deserve to know the truth, about how much of a_ fuck-up _I am._

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you,” Andrew says softly, and he’s pulling Steven into a hug, gently enough that Steven could back off if he wanted to.

Steven does not want to back off. Steven desperately wants Andrew’s warm embrace, wants to drown in it instead of being here right now.

He crawls onto Andrew’s lap, his face burying into the blonde man’s shoulder and neck, still wracked with sobs.

Andrew’s hand is rubbing up and down Steven’s back, saying “shh” and “you’re okay” and “I got you, I got you,” over and over and over like a mantra, a prayer, like a _promise._

Steven is sure he’s getting snot and tears all over Andrew’s shirt, and he tries to not worry about that. Instead, he worries about literally everything else imaginable.

Eventually- after what could have been five minutes or half an hour, he’s not entirely sure which- Steven’s bawling dies down. Andrew’s hand running up and down his back in comfort does not die down, which Steven is infinitely thankful for.

“Stevie,” Andrew starts. Andrew doesn’t pull back to try and look Steven in the eyes, which Steven, again, is grateful for. He can barely handle eye contact even on the best of days.

“You can tell me what’s wrong. I know that you’re scared to tell me when you’re upset and to ask for help,” Andrew continues, and Steven stiffens under his touch at the truth of that. Was he that easy to read, or was Andrew just good at reading? “but you’re allowed to. You can tell me anything, and I won’t ever judge you, okay?”

Andrew’s hand has slowed to a stop, now just his thumb rubbing comforting circles into Steven’s back.

“But-“ and Steven says this aloud before he can stop himself, before he can overthink and regret everything (though he’s already starting to do the latter)- “what if I’m… too much?”

“Too much?” Andrew prompts. “What do you mean?”

“Like… what if I’m… a burden on you? Or, what if I get too upset all the time, and you get tired of it?” _What if you get tired of_ me _?_ Steven thinks and doesn’t say, though he’s pretty sure Andrew gets his meaning.

“Oh, Steven,” Andrew’s words are soft, but right beside his ear, so they’re the only thing Steven can hear. “Baby, sweetheart, honey- I could _never_ get tired of you. I promise you.”

Steven would _like_ to believe that, but a certain mental fucking illness is stopping him from doing so.

“How can you… how can you be sure?” Steven asks, lifting his head up from where it’s resting on Andrew’s shoulder, now resting his forehead against Andrew’s, eyelids fluttering closed as to not look him in the eyes. He probably looks silly with his eyes being closed and Andrew’s open, but Steven’s kind of out of it right now, it’s fine.

“Because, I’m your boyfriend, and I’m in love with you. Can’t get tired of someone you’re committed to- that’s why it’s a commitment,” Andrew says so matter-of-fact. Steven is starving for reassurance, for affectionate words, and Andrew seems more than willing to give him those. “I want to help you. I really do. So tell me what’s wrong- if you want to, that is,” Andrew adds the last part softly.

At some point, Andrew started holding Steven’s hands in his own, his thumb running across Steven’s knuckles.

There’s a pause where it’s just the two of them, their breathing the only noise in the room. Andrew’s breaths are steady and slow, and Steven unconsciously matches his own to them.

“I… I’ve… always had…” Steven starts, unsure where to go from there.

“Take your time, baby.”

Steven pauses to think. “Are you… are you _sure_ you want to… hear this? To help me?”

“I’m sure, I promise. And I’ll remind you of that as much as you need to hear it,” Andrew says. “I won’t get tired of it.”

“Okay,” Steven says, finally maybe believing him, or starting to. He leans back from where he was resting his forehead on Andrew’s, looking at his own lap again. “Okay.”

“I have, uh, anxiety, which you probably already know by now, but. I do. And depression. They go hand in hand, a lot of the time.” Steven stops to take a breath. “And— ever since I was 16, I… I started…” Steven paused. “Hurting myself,” he finishes quietly, his voice sounding like glass about to shatter.

“Because… I don’t…” he swallows, before continuing. “Not because I want to… kill myself, or something. I could never bring myself to do that. It’s because I just _don’t like myself,”_ he says in a rush, “I- I feel like I’m, I don’t know. Stupid, and annoying, and ugly, and… bad. And I know that that’s just my brain telling me those things, that it… _probably_ isn’t true.”

But… sometimes, I just, if I’m stressed out, or if I fuck something up, or if I just— feel really bad about myself… then I would… you know. With a shaving razor.” Steven’s voice cracks, and he may start crying again, he’s not sure.

“No one ever found out about it. Or if they noticed, they never said anything. No one, until you,” and he nearly whispers the last part.

Steven is very surprised he’s been able to say all of this so far. Andrew hasn’t interrupted him, which helps. Andrew’s whole presence helps.

“And, it wasn’t always there. I didn’t do it all the time, I mean. I stopped for a few months sometimes, but then I’d start again. It came and went. And now. It’s, um. Uh,” Steven fumbles.

“It’s. I’ve... wanted to. Recently,” he finishes.

Steven lets silence take over, the quiet letting Andrew that he’s done rambling.

Andrew takes a breath. He seems to decide on his next words very, very carefully. “When was the last time you did it?”

“Two months ago,” Steven says, his voice very, very quiet, barely audible.

“Okay,” Andrew says. He pauses again, looking him in the face. Steven’s still averting his gaze. “I’m really proud of you, Steven.”

Steven finally, finally looks at Andrew, his doe eyes blinking at him in disbelief.

“I’m proud of you for telling me all of this, for being honest with me, even though it was really scary for you,” Andrew squeezes Steven’s hands from where he’s still holding them. Yeah- scary is an understatement. “And I’m proud of you for not hurting yourself lately, even if you wanted to.”

Steven wants to cry again, but out of joy, out of gratefulness and sheer _adoration_ this time, not out of anxiety.

“And the next time you feel like doing something like that, talk to me, okay? Text me, or call me, or come over to my apartment uninvited- ‘cause you’re always welcome here, I promise- or, hell, come over to my desk at work and talk to me. I’ll drop everything for you, Steven. Okay?”

“Alright,” Steven replies hoarsely, his throat tight, nodding.

Andrew smiles. “You’re so strong, and all the things that you don’t like about yourself aren’t true. You’re handsome, and smart, and funny, and kind. And I’m not saying that because I’m your boyfriend, or because I love you- which I do, by the way- I’m saying that because it’s true. You’re amazing, and you’re _worth it,_ even when you don’t feel like you are.”

Steven can’t help but break out into a grin. “I saw that pun. I see you,” he laughs, then his face falls again. “I’m sorry for, I don’t know, all of this. I know I shouldn’t be sorry, but, I just-“

“So then don’t be sorry, there’s nothing to be sorry for,” Andrew gently yet firmly interrupts him. “You deserve help. You deserve love.”

“Okay,” Steven says. “Then… thank you, Andrew. For listening to me, and for helping me, and for being here for me, and for… for everything, really.”

“Of course, Steven. Anything for you,” Andrew says so lovingly. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. I _want_ to help you. In present tense.”

”Okay,” Steven says, the corners of his lips pulled into a smile. He really believes him, now. “Hey Drew?”

“Yes, babe?”

“I love you. Present tense,” Steven says with a lopsided grin.

Andrew smiles back, his eyes crinkling at the corners and looking so soft and caring, and Steven feels _safe._ Steven feels loved, and safe, and protected, and like a weight has been lifted off of his chest.

Andrew leans in, placing a hand on Steven’s face, giving Steven time to stop him, and when Steven doesn’t, he kisses him. The kiss is chaste, just as gentle as his words are, maybe even moreso.

Steven’s not great at reading people, much less Andrew, but as his boyfriend pulls back from the kiss, he’s almost certain that the nearly tender look in Andrew’s eyes says _I’m so in love with you._

Steven hopes his eyes say the same back.

“Let’s go to sleep, Stevie.”

“What time is it?”

“11:28.”

“And what time did the movie end?”

“9:30-ish.”

Steven lets out a little laugh. “We talked for a really long time, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. It’s good that we did. C’mere,” Andrew says, gently dragging Steven down until they’re lying down, facing each other on either side of the bed.

“Can we cuddle?” Steven asks in a small voice that Andrew finds adorable.

“Of course we can. I’d love to,” Andrew says, pulling Steven closer to him until Steven’s head is tucked under Andrew’s chin. Steven’s arms are folded against Andrew’s chest, and Andrew’s are holding him so closely, their legs tangled together.

Andrew pulls back momentarily to kiss Steven’s forehead, before moving back to rest his chin on Steven’s hair again.

 _This feels safe,_ Steven thinks. _I feel safe._ For a brief moment, for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel anxious at all.

He only feels warmth and love that night as he drifts to sleep in his boyfriend’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed reading this, at least a little bit. 
> 
> i’m doing okay, in case any of you are concerned about me based on the contents of this fic! i’m okay, i promise.
> 
> on a very, Very serious and relevant note: _a significant other or close friend shouldn’t be a replacement for therapy._ in addition to therapy, sure! but they can’t give you the same help a professional can. i’d imagine after the events of this fic, andrew takes steven to find a therapist, and he eventually recovers and gets a happy ending. if you’re struggling with issues similar to this, you should try seeing a therapist too, if you’re able to. i do, and it helps.
> 
> another very serious note: don’t start self-harming. it sucks. it’s the worst. don’t start doing it; it’s so, so hard to recover from. please believe me.
> 
> if you left a comment, it would mean the world to me! <33


End file.
